A man without vice is a man without virtue
by catchmelikeacold
Summary: A little short for a friend who isn't feeling well. Panic! At The Disco, The Academy Is..., Cobra Starship star in this fic. Please enjoy!


"Fuck you." As always, Spencer was blunt and emotionless as he swore. It had always been a trait of Spencer's. Never betraying emotion amongst harsh words. Brendon stood opposite him, confusion and a little bit of amusement dancing in his eyes. I had to prevent myself from taking a photograph in my mind of Brendon. His dark lashes were fluttering over his deep brown hues in a way that made anyone feel weak, even me. Although I knew to myself I was slightly homosexual, I was not ashamed to admit that Brendon was a very attractive person.  
"Spencer, calm down. What's the matter?" Spencer breathed in and out four times before his hand flew up and made contact with his face. Brendon's flawless features that had once shown an expression of bemusement and a hint of mockery was now plastered with something resembling anger. The slap had been hard and sharp, and had taken Brendon completely off balance, so much that he stumbled back towards me and our Ryan. My hands flew out instinctively, and as my digits fanned out across his warm back; I could feel his shoulders tense as he shook with fury.  
"Jesus Christ!" His strong Irish accent could never grow old on us; I could feel Ryan sigh next to me. We both could listen to his voice all day long - and Brendon knew it.  
"What the fuck Spencer? What is _wrong_ with you?" Brendon spoke sharply, a no-nonsense tone underlying his words. Swearing suited Brendon, and he swore frequently. Any mood he was in he could colour the air with his vocabulary, and it would always suit the occasion. I also noticed that he emphasized the word 'wrong', as if Spencer's hysterics were nothing but a child's tantrum.  
I notice such things.  
Spencer scoffed.  
"_Patrick_ told me _everything_. The _party_, the_ drinking_, the _girls_." If Spencer could get a penny for every word he emphasized each day, he would be a millionaire. In that statement alone he had almost shouted four of the words. Although Brendon had his back to me I knew his dark hues would be filled with concern, and age old guilt. We both knew Brendon didn't go to that party, but Spencer was never to know otherwise. I had made a promise. I felt for the scar on my hand, it was small, new. It was my promise.  
"Whatever he's said to you Spencer, believes me, I care about you. We all do!" Brendon's arm lifted and gestured to 'we', that being myself, Ryan and Jon. Spencer's eyes flicked over us, a snarl of contempt playing at his rosy lips. It had not been long ago he would have smiled at us, asked how we were, wanted to spend time with us. With Spencer around we felt important. His ego began to flare.  
"Bullshit! So you guys were all in on it too. Ry' and Jon I'm not surprised. Whereas you..." His finger lifted shakily and pointed accusingly in my direction. "I'm the most surprised at you Beckett!" I flinched, partly because I did not want to get slapped, nor did I wish to be accused. What Brendon did that night was his choice. I did influence it, and I promised him I would support it. Brendon's eyes were now looking into mine; begging, pleading. I shook my head at Spencer.  
"No we weren't Spence'. Don't be ridiculous." My voice croaked slightly from lack of use, my old welsh vowels that I had inherited from my mother slipping into my words. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes away from Spencer.  
"Really think, Spencer. Why would we hurt you?" Jon looked at Ryan as he said this, and Ryan looked at Brendon, whom was still looking at me. He smiled, because although we were safe from Spencer's spite, he still was not. Our words had obviously made an impact on Spencer, his eyes were wide, brimming with a fresh supply of saltwater. I couldn't help seeing him through my peripheral vision, watching me, studying me, testing me. I was anything but a liar. So if he didn't believe me, then I doubt anybody could.  
"Spencer you don't hate me. Stop looking at me like that." Brendon was now facing Spencer; he was still shaking and his tear ducts had spilled over. Spencer was one of those lucky people that when he cried, the rims of his eyes did not go blotchy or red. I had to abnegate myself from staring at the salty tears that raced down his rough cheeks. Mum had always told me that staring at a girl is rude, especially if she is angry or sad. I guessed that the same rule applied to males too. I let my gaze fall back, onto where Ryan was whispering in Jon's ear. It always fascinated me the way Jon and Ryan went about communicating; sometimes they just stood there, sharing each other's thoughts without any outsiders gaining entrance. Jon and Ryan were the only twins on our estate, and they did not befriend easily. Although they were fraternal, they couldn't be more alike. Brendon used to sit at the end of my bed in silence, deep in thought, ask me whether they were even our friends, but I was also unaware. However later on, as the months went past, we settled into the morning routine of school; always meeting in the same place at the same time, going to the same classes, talking about the same things. We were a foursome.

It all changed when Brendon made friends with Spencer.

Spencer Smith was English. This was of course fascinating in Ireland, his perfect vowels, his carefully pronounced vocabulary. He was described to be the "English rose amongst all the clovers" according to our eccentric English language teacher, Mister Owens. Mister Owens was the sort of teacher you knew that you could easily trust, but yet you would never approach with a problem. He was the first teacher to stand up Spencer in the second period of the day, and identified him to be the new boy. When placed on the spot, Spencer was nervous, stumbling over his perfectly pronounced accent, and staring at the ground. Brendon applauded when he went to sit down after a brief introduction stating he was called Spencer, but-please-call-me-Spence', and I'm from England. Spencer looked up, grateful, and I recognised the look that suddenly shadowed his face. Brendon was nothing if not the most attractive boy in the entire school, and to have him applaud him made Spencer feel wanted, it made him feel like he wanted to know him. He was unaware that Brendon did this for anyone who went up and spoke in front of the whole class, as to show team spirit. Everyone liked Brendon, but he was not popular bizarrely. He preferred my company it seemed out of all the rest, hence why I was labelled 'best friend' to him. This in itself was an honour.  
It only took Spencer three days to approach Brendon. We were at our usual spot, that being I, Jon and Brendon. Ryan had gone to a detention for spitting gum into Pete Wentz' hair that lunch. Jon was swinging upside down from the monkey bars, his face purple from blood rush, and myself and Brendon balanced on a high wall behind our swinging friend. Spencer flashed what I now know to be his flirty smile at Brendon, and spoke with far more confidence than before.  
"Hello lads, what's up?" Spencer's eyes were shining, obviously this line had taken him hours to think up, and he had spent last night rehearsing into the mirror. Brendon did not notice these things and nodded back at her.  
"Wotcha. We're up on this wall. He's up on the bars." Spencer laughed, a little too loudly and falsely, which provoked Brendon raising his eyebrows in my direction. I smirked, because usually only girls tended to be a lot like this around Brendon.  
"Oooh my, that was funny! Why are you upside down anyway?"  
Jon shrugged. "Why are you right-side up?"  
Spencer looked back at Brendon with a look that suggested that he really did find his joke genuinely funny. I had a new found respect for him, as he seemed like the type to laugh and smile a lot. I couldn't seem to help but like him. Knowing Brendon as well as I did, he still thought he was just another silly girly type come to try his luck with him. I nudged him, a clear sign that he should take this more seriously, which Brendon immediately ignored, pressing on with winding him up.  
"Ah you guys are funny! Anyways, you know I'm Spencer, and you guys are...?"  
"I bet we are, and oh? I thought you were Call-me-Spence'? And who's asking anyway?" He leant down slightly so he could hear him clearer "I have been told that I'm hilarious." Spencer grinned again, brushing off his sarcasm.  
"Of course you are. Honestly, I'm Spencer. You must have hearing problems." He then smirked, knowing that he had caught Brendon out at his own game. "Oh, and I'm asking. You must be blind too."  
Brendon's eyebrows flew to the heavens, his mouth was slightly opened, which he then closed after wetting his lips with his tongue.  
"Indeed!" Brendon jumped down from the wall and stood directly in front of Spencer, closing the distance between the two. "Perhaps I should call a doctor. Well tell _Spencer_, that my name is Brendon - with an O."  
"Well Brendon with an O, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance" Spencer smiled at him then walked around him, hoisting himself up onto the wall next to me. Instead of a flirty grin he provided me with a genuine smile, which I half-heartedly returned.  
"Hey there, I'm Spencer. What's your name?" His accent was flawless, his looks were perfect - I found myself speechless.  
Thankfully Brendon noticed and laughed.  
"Why Sir Spencer! Don't you know who this fine gentleman is? This is the one and only William!" Brendon hopped up on the other side of me, throwing an arm round my shoulders and flashing his biggest grin. "My best friend."  
He added those three words firmly, as if staking ownership, stating that I was not to be toyed with.  
Every time I heard Brendon call me his best friend I felt my spirits lift, so to hear him say it again in front of Spencer offered me a new confidence.  
"Yes that's me, just Bill. Oh, and this is Jon." Jon had returned to right-side up, and his face was back to its usual pale complexion.  
"Hello. Ryan will be along shortly, he's my twin." Spencer blinked at Jon.  
"Twins? That is so cool! And Ryan is such a pretty name. Where is he now?"  
No-one had ever taken such an interest in the twins before to their faces, so Jon seemed slightly taken aback, but he still smiled at him.  
"He's in a detention for spitting gum."  
Spencer laughed out loud, "What a ridiculous reason to be thrown into detention! Ah but then again sounds like something I'd probably end up doing." Brendon was looking at Spencer as he spoke and bantered with Jon. He then whispered in my ear, tickling my eardrums.  
"I think I'm going to like having him around." I nodded, because I agreed one hundred percent.

"William?" This was Sam again. I had snapped out of my vague trance and Sam was talking to me. "Bill, where was Brendon the night of the party? I know he wasn't there now. Pete told me."  
Somehow it was now lunch time, and Spencer and I were walking over to the wall we had always sat on, since day one. I didn't have much to say to Spencer, least of all about how I thought his hormones were indefinitely out of balance. So I did not answer his question, and we sat in silence all of lunch.

That night I dreamt I was falling.

The next morning my mother cornered me, demanding an explanation as to why the phone had been ringing all night. I was a heavy sleeper, and I had fallen asleep as soon as I had returned from school, skipping dinner as I did most evenings. I was not aware that the phone had been ringing.

My mother is a small, brisk woman. She is not one for suffering fools gladly, and she treats her family and friends with a strict and straightforward manner. One glass of dry white wine settles her, and my father was always quick to top up her supply when it had been drained. My father worked at a printing company in the town and due to my mother claiming the car for her daily commute, he rides a mountain bike on his journey every day. My father had invested in the mountain bike in the June of two years ago, parading up and down the kitchen as he cooked dinner, stating his latest fantasy to ride all of the mountains. My father is the sort to fantasize. He always makes time to stop and admire the local views from the hills behind our estate. My mother and I never being the sort for scenery did not join him.  
My father wears glasses to read in his spare time. He believes that Rick Astley started a craze that can never die out. My uncle has tried to correct him, but he will not accept this one truth.

My mother speaks in a strong welsh accent when she is angry, and she is angry now.  
"He kept asking for you, some boy. Didn't say his name." She pauses and looks to the clock, "It's Saturday and I didn't have to go into work, so I don't mind this time. But don't let it happen again. I took his number down by the phone." She leaves the room to go about her weekend routine, one that consists of a healthy breakfast and a difficult crossword, followed by food shopping and lunch with a friend. My father is at work pretending to laugh at his bosses jokes and tell the receptionist all about his latest fantasy. This week his fantasy was to become a professional chef. I can hear the rustle of the bran flakes' packet in the kitchen. I know it is the bran flakes because the packet inside the box is a lot noisier than the packet of normal cornflakes. I spot a red flash out of the corner of my eye. It is the voicemail button on the landline. I like the colour red; it's a symbol of love, anger, independence. It only takes me one guess to decide whom was ringing.  
"Hi Bill, it's me. Though you probably deducted who 'me' is hours before you even picked up the phone..." Brendon's use of the word 'hours' is a hyperbole. "...but anyway is it okay if you can call me back? I've called five times now, and since it's after nine your mum probably wants my throat. Hence why I have not given my name." There is a brief pause. "I'd be an excellent spy."  
The line cuts off with a faint click, and I delete the message and replace the cordless. I then pick it up again and dial Brendon's landline number.  
"Hello?" It is Brendon's mother.  
"Hello Miss-is Urie, may I speak to Brendon?"  
"Of course you can William, might I say, you are a very polite. Far more polite than the boy that rang last night. In bloody hysterics he was! Oh, oh, KIERON. KIERON! PHONE! Anyway here you are William."  
I hold my breath.  
"Hey."  
"Hi."  
"He rang last night."  
"I know. Your mum said. Claims he was in hysterics?"  
"Yup."  
"Did you speak to him?"  
"Nope."  
"Oh."  
There is silence for fourteen seconds.  
"Do you want to come round?"  
"Yeah."  
"See you in ten."  
Brendon ends the call first, and I walk into the kitchen where my mother is bent over a paper, her reading glasses perched at the end of her nose.  
"May I go to Brendon's? He's in distress."  
"Ah a damsel?" My mother doesn't look up from her paper.  
"Most likely."  
"You better rush to his side on thy nobel steed."  
"With pleasure." My mother smiles.  
"Get dressed first."  
"Will do."

I am dressed and walking down the hill to Brendon's house. I have forgotten to brush my hair again so I am running my fingers through it as I walk along. This earns me a wolf whistle from another guy on our road, Dallon. He is in the year above, and a rumour is going around that he is gay. I have my doubts. A lot of the compliments I receive are about my hair. It is black, and slightly curly. Dallon walks into a house, his I presume. His shorts are very short. This makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, and my cheeks begin to feel hot. I have only kissed four people in my lifetime.

Keltie Colleen was my first ever kiss, I was nine years of age, and she was ten. We were sat outside in a hut at our primary school, and she went to kiss me on the cheek, but I turned and our lips met for a second. She tore away and shrieked at me, and we haven't spoken since.

Patrick Stump was dared to kiss me at Brendon's 15th birthday, we went into the shoe cupboard and he used tongues. According to his best friend Pete, I was rated a very high 10/10 kisser, and Patrick wanted to do it again. I was not interested, and informed Pete that perhaps Patrick would have better luck with somebody else. Turns out that somebody else was Pete, but Patrick still could not let go of the rejection. Not even to date. For weeks a rumour floated around, and my heterosexuality was thrown into question. This was quickly extinguished by Brendon.  
I was always thankful for the amount of control Brendon had over people, yet Brendon was not.

The third was my first-ever relationship with a boy called Gabe Saporta. We were both curious, explorers in the dark. They were some of the best few months of my life, and not even Brendon knew about those. Not until recently anyway.

The fourth was a few days ago.

"I have had five texts this morning, and I had two last night. Everyone wants me to know that they're on my side. What side?! I didn't know that there were bloody fucking sides!" Brendon was marching up and down his bedroom, from the window to the far wall, pacing like the tigers in the zoo. Brendon sits down on the swivel chair at his desk. "Spencer must be in hell. Think, he's only been here what, ten months? Suddenly everyone's giving him dirty looks, dropping the odd bitchy remark. What am I going to do Bill? I can't tell him."  
"Technically Brendon, you can." I murmured.  
"What?! Bill, have you gone completely insane?!"  
"No. I'm just saying. He might understand." Might being the operative word.  
"Don't be a twat Bill." Brendon's words stung me slightly, but I try to understand. Or at least pretend to understand.  
"Why don't we go to the twins'? Jon always has something to say on the matters at hand." I try and sound bright, but the look on Brendon's face suggests I seem slightly out of place.  
"Mmmm even if it is a load of bollocks." Brendon mumbles behind his hair.  
"Never mind the bollocks." This makes Brendon smile. Having brought Brendon into a far more relaxed state, I conclusively point to the door. Brendon obediently follows my fingers. I lead him down the stairs into the hall, I point at his shoes. Brendon nods and picks them up to put them on. I like this. I like the control. I am the master.  
Just as we are slipping on our shoes Mister Urie steps in from the lounge.  
"Ah boys, glad I caught you...wait, are you going out?"  
"Yes Dad." Brendon replies blunty. He is trying to show Mister Urie that his mind cannot be changed. I have known Brendon for three years now, and even I know it is unwise to try and change Brendon's mind. I pull on my converse and yank at the tongue to straighten it. I offer Mister Urie a sympathetic smile, but he brushes it off and steps in front of Brendon.  
"A boy called for you. He wants you round in five minutes."  
"Dad...who was it?" Brendon's shoulders have flown up to his ears, and he is half-shouting in a high pitched voice.  
"Calm down son! Some skinny-lookin fellow. I swear he always hangs around with that other dark-haired boy, however he was alone this time." Brendon's shoulders relax. He looks at me and throws a crooked grin in my direction. "Ryan."

Ryan and Jon live on the far end on the estate, almost on the outskirts. They live in one of the big detached houses on Regence Avenue, a rather modern design with an extension on the left. This extension was the twins' room. The very room that I was about to enter.  
The room was large, and split into two. The first half of the room that we walked into was Jon's half, this being imminent due to the large lettering on the ceiling that read "Jonathan". These letters glowed in the dark. There was a small singular bed against the wall, with a television set attached to the wall at the end of the bed. There was a small desk where a laptop lay closed on the surface, and a black swivel chair. When walking further into the room I encountered Ryan's half of the room. He had a larger bed, a small double, with large posters all over the room of art by my favourite vandal/artist Banksy. He had a copycat desk with a similar laptop, his decorated in stickers.  
The one thing that fascinated me the most out of the room was the wardrobe, it was the one thing that separated the room into its halves, and it was double-sided. If the clothes on either side were pushed aside, Ryan and Jon could peer into each other's separate worlds, and truly be apart whilst together.  
"Hello William." Ryan was lying on his bed, trying to conceal a large book, a photo album I assumed.  
"Hi Ry', what are you doing?"  
Ryan lay back and let his silky hair fall across his closed eyes.  
"Nothing."  
"Technically that's impossible, seeing as you're breathing, laying, and thinking. They're something." I casually lean back against the cool of the white wall behind me.  
Ryan simply lets a smirk play at his lips. "Right. Of course William."  
"Why do you never call me Bill, like everyone else who converses with me?"  
"Because your name is William." His answer was so simple, so easy. I decided against debating with him any further. To announce this I throw my hands up in front of me, palms out.  
"Okay. I surrender." This makes Ryan smile, and his eyes flutter shut tighter. I push myself off the wall and walk over to Ryan's bed. I sit myself down at the foot of the bed and look at Ryan. He is indeed a beautiful boy, I notice this only now, and it pains me to have only realised how absolutely stunning he is in that moment. Out of all of the moments in the world, it had to be this one right now. A cascade of messy light brown hair tumbles down over his pillow, and behind his eyelids are two almond-shaped eyes the colour of maltesers. His limbs are long and smooth and pale, and I am drowned in his presence, intoxicated by his scent. A hint of vanilla. I inhale and exhale. Fuck.  
"You're beautiful."  
Silence.  
Then, "Thank you."  
More silence.  
"What was that book you were trying to cover up unsuccessfully?" Ryan sighs and chuckles.  
"You really don't miss a thing do you?" He sits up and makes direct eye-contact, which before now never made me feel so uncomfortable. Beauty does this to me - I could not function were it not for beauty. Yet I find beauty can only be found in a person, not a scene, hence my lack of thrill for scenery. As he rummages around the covers for the book I realise that up until that point I have never spent any time with Ryan just he and I, I savour the moment and save it to my data banks. I put it in a box where I can access it later, devour the memory and analyse every last second of it, because right now I cannot focus on a single thing apart from Ryan's eyes darting from side-to-side. They are a brilliant golden-brown today, blurred by movement. They light up when he finds what he's looking for.  
Ryan reveals to me a large photo album, a brown leather affair with a cracked spine.  
I open it up even though the album is on Ryan's lap.  
Both of us flinch at the proximity of space we are in within each other. Precious, precious body heat being shared. We both had something to offer, but yet we didn't want everything the other had. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.  
"It's scenery."  
I'd never had a taste for scenery.  
"It's my scenery." Ryan states frankly. Then I get it, then I understand. Before Ryan and Jon joined our school and settled in Ireland they travelled. We knew this much from what rumours floated around. One day at school a pair of curious twins showed up, without warning or any foreshadowing. I blink a few times.  
"So you did travel."  
"Yes."  
"Oh." There is silence, but I forget to count the seconds. One Mississippi, two Mississippi.  
"But I took pictures of what mattered. What I wanted to remember." Ryan closes his eyes before turning a few pages. We come to a photo of a bakery. It's late at night in the photo, and there is a hint of snow sprinkled across the cobbled street. Ryan's fingers grace the page lightly.  
I can smell the bread, hear the light crunch of the crust as the bread is sliced. I can feel the harsh breeze on my face as I walk past this bakery, but the warmth and soft light that pours out of the bakery unmistakeably overpowers the sense of cold that the snow gives as it begins to fall gently.  
I am blown away.  
Ryan shows me more. Gondolas in Venice, an old rusty truck in Cairo, a marketplace in Thailand. I feel everything Ryan felt and more. For a brief moment I forgot that Ryan could feel such things, I forgot he was a human being with a pulse.  
Reminding him he's still alive.  
He had shown me around the world in a matter of minutes through the medium of images. I was thrown into a temporary state of euphoria, my entire body vibrating with pure happiness. This was a rare feat for me, especially considering that Ryan was the one that provoked these feelings.  
"You're the only person other than me who has seen this collection." Ryan says.  
Ryan was probably in love with me – and I was okay with that.  
I was just unsure if Brendon would be.  
Ryan touches the small scar in my palm.  
I wince.  
Ryan puts an arm around me and I lean up against his shoulder.  
"It's a promise."  
Ryan shrugs.  
"I know." He holds up his arm in front of us. A small scar is embedded within his palm. "He told me everything. Made me promise to keep quiet so long as he was the one to tell Jon." Ryan shakes his head.  
"I've never been the last person to tell Jon something before."  
I don't know who moved first, or who ended up thinking up this idea, but suddenly Ryan's mouth covers mine. It is gentle and soft, and I am unsure when he pulls away if those were lips or feathers gracing my own lips. I sigh and lean against Ryan again.  
"Come on Ry'. Let's go see if Bren' and Jon have finished those drinks yet." I'll say anything to get downstairs. Somewhere with other people.  
My pulse is reminding me I'm alive.

From the way Brendon is looking at me when we walk home, I know he can tell what happened. I lick my lips guiltily, are they pinker, like when Patrick kissed me? But he used tongues. Does that affect my lip colour? Ryan didn't use his tongue.  
Did Keltie?  
"Are you okay Bill? You seem faraway. Where are you right now?" Brendon tries for a smile. It's our old game.  
"I'm on a beach. It's freezing cold and I wish I was wearing a coat." I reply, happy to do something normal.  
"Weirdo." Says Brendon. "You'll catch a cold. Who doesn't bring a coat to the beach? Honestly."  
I nudge Brendon with my shoulder.  
He nudges me back.  
We jostle for a while, laughing and poking.  
"What happened earlier Bill?" Brendon asks. He sounds concerned, worried. I realise it is not for the reasons most people may assume.  
I hold my breath for 8 seconds.  
"I kept my promise if that's what you're so concerned about." I whisper.  
Brendon visibly relaxes. "I didn't mean it like that Bill."  
I shake my head. "Yes you did."  
I leave Brendon at his house and decline his offer of video games. I need time and space to think. I need something that won't judge me or only keep me around because now I threaten everything they have worked for. I want Brendon to want me around because I'm his best friend – not because I can keep a secret.  
When I walk halfway up the hill, Dallon is sat on a low wall outside his house. He has changed into jeans and his head is in his hands. I frown, I wonder what has made him feel like this. I cross the street. His misery is making mine feel like less.  
"Hello. Uhm, Dallon." I say. I really hope in that moment that this is his name. He looks up. It is, panic over.  
"Oh. Hey. Sorry – I'm not interested in you. Please go away." He says firmly before standing and walking back inside his house. I bite back a laugh and hold it in until I am safe in my own house. Nobody is home. Food shopping I presume.  
Ryan kissed me. Brendon has a new reason to keep me around. Dallon thinks I'm interested in him. Spencer is probably at home feeling more alone than ever.  
I fall to the floor and let out howl after howl with laughter. I crawl over to the phone and yank it down to call my all-time third favourite person in the world. I am still laughing when he picks up.  
"It's all so fucked up! _So very, very fucked up._ It's all because we are entrapped in one big massive lie – and you know what? It's probably my fault. Ha! All. My. Fault." I half-shout, half-laugh down the receiver.  
"I'm on my way over. Don't move. No wait, move and put the kettle on." So I do.

When Gabe Saporta eventually raps on the door, there are two steaming mugs of tea on the side, one with three sugars, one black. Gabe marches in and picks up the black tea and sips, making little appreciative noises.  
"Now. Tell me everything."  
I take in a deep breath, and I tell him everything. I don't break my promise. I brief him, just the outline of events. Gabe listens intently and doesn't speak until I have finally finished and I finally can breathe again. Gabe puts down the mug. He has finished his tea. 10 seconds pass before Gabe speaks again, and he is more than displeased.  
"Let me see the promise."  
I show him. Gabe inspects my hand, and I am relieved at the familiar sensation of his fingers on mine. I look up at the ceiling and count the cracks, wondering if I should report them back to Mum. The last time I counted there were 5. There are now 6. I breathe out once Gabe lets go of my hand.  
"Look Bill, I don't know what you expect me to do about this. Have you tried Adam?" I shake my head. Adam has been my friend since primary school, in primary we were best friends, but since then Brendon has been given that position and Adam had made friends with Butcher. We're perfectly happy with this arrangement, and we often Skype. Gabe and Adam have occasionally hung out here with me and Brendon, and we were all at that party when I kissed Patrick.  
"Adam's in Cornwall with Butcher and their parents – some old pub crawl for the perfect meal." Adam was home-schooled now, so holiday time was welcomed. Butcher was also home-schooled and their mothers alternated between each of them.  
Gabe nods at me, and inspects the scar without touching it. "Are you sure you can't tell me anymore? All I can say is go talk to whoever's holding this over you. And talk to Ryan – I know you aren't interested. You don't just start loving someone one day, it builds up over time. The moment you begin to love someone is when you meet them. It's small, so, so small. But if you want more, it builds." I nod, I think I know what he means. I didn't love him. He wants me to remember in case I have built anything for him. No. I've only built for somebody else. I don't tell Gabe this because he is somebody who has a lot of feelings, and you have to be careful with people's feelings says Mum. I bite my lip.  
Gabe sighs.  
"Go. Go find the person who is getting the most hurt in all this. And _call Adam._" He insists, pushing his lean frame off of the kitchen counter and jabbing me in the chest with three of his fingers. I stumble backwards but I manage to re-erect myself.  
"Okay. Fine. I'll go and see Spencer." At this, Gabe seizes up.  
"Whoa. Spencer _Smith?_ _He's _the one being hurt in all of this? Jesus Christ, Bill. What did that poor guy ever do to you guys?" Gabe's shoulders droop and he goes to leave. "Sort it out Bill." Gabe turns back to me and pauses for effect. I am not affected. "Or you'll all drift away from each other."  
This affects me.  
But Gabe is gone and I am alone again.  
I blink three times, focus and unfocus my eyes, count to sixty and then I leave.

Spencer does not live down the bottom of the hill like Brendon, or just on the other side of the estate like Ryan and Jon. Spencer lives in town just above his mother's cake shop. In order to get there I will have to drive.  
This in itself is daunting.  
I have only been allowed to drive for three weeks, and my Mum will ground me when she realises I have taken her car out across town. My mother disapproves of the town, and of me driving. To do both at the same time would mentally horrify her. I've already started the ignition before I can even begin to consider the repercussions of my actions.  
As I drive I take Gabe's advice.  
_Beep beep.__  
Beep beep.__  
Beep beep….__  
_"Hello Sisky's phone." Comes the gruff voice.  
"Oh, hey! Butcher. It's William, could you…" Before I can even begin my request Butcher begins to shout.  
"Hey Siska it's for you! What?! PHONE, SISKA. IT'S BILL." I swallow back a chuckle and listen to a bit of rummaging before a muffled, "Well give it here then!"  
"Bill!"  
"Sisky. I need to talk to you about something. I've messed up. How long do you have?"  
"All night for you baby." I am unsure if he is talking to me or his cat.  
I begin my story anyway.

Brendon Urie was sitting opposite me on my bed when I told him all about Gabe. We were meant to be at a party, talking to girls and dancing and drinking beer. Brendon opted out and asked if we could spend the evening together. A month ago I had split up with my boyfriend, Gabe Saporta, and I was beginning to feel the negatives of the break-up. Brendon knew something was wrong with me, he just _knew._  
"Tell me." He said. Just like that. To my face. "Tell me, Bill."  
"I'm gay."  
I was expecting a very different reaction. I was expecting him to kick me out of my own bed, I expected him to shuffle away slightly and freak out on the inside. I did not expect him to say…"Me too."  
It had turned out that for months now Brendon and Spencer had been secretly seeing each other behind all of our backs. Ryan and Jon had received scars to say they would not reveal to anyone. Right then I agreed I would take one for him because I was partly so scared of losing him at that point. Brendon was gay, he had been for a very, very long time, and he had gone to a stranger when he thought I was heterosexual.  
"You _begged _me, Bill. You literally begged me to help you get away from Patrick. I thought you were run-of-the-mill straight. Broke my heart but I just wanted you to be happy and left alone. It's my job to protect you William."  
I didn't understand. I wanted him to be mine. In that moment my building-up had finally finished, I was a fully constructed building of love for Brendon Boyd Urie. I just prayed he wouldn't demolish me. Surely though, surely he'd had some clue I was gay?  
"You were so far away when me and Spencer hooked up. I thought you didn't want me around. Now I realise it's because _you _were hooking up with Gabe."  
Oh.  
"…and I missed you, y'know? I missed you like crazy. I missed your scent, your hair, your ways. And Spencer was there. Is there. I need him to repair me like you almost did."  
I want to curl up.  
Brendon pushes his hair out of his face, he is looking at the ground and he laughs. It is somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and my entire being melts for him. He looks up at me, but instead of saying what he was about to say, he stops. He just looks. Brendon looks into my eyes, and he looks past them, deep deep in. I invite him in. I let him look. I open myself bare to him.  
Brendon leans in.  
Then we're kissing. It is nothing like when Ryan kissed me later on.  
Our lips are glued to each other's, and Brendon's pillowed lips are hot due to the tea we made. I lick them, earning a soft moan from Brendon. This only fuels me to push him down onto the bed, and by the time we are finished kissing apologies over every inch of skin we can find, the tea is ice-cold.  
I curl up next to Brendon's shirtless torso, my own hot skin pressing to his, and we fall asleep curled up in each other.  
The next day Brendon tried to kiss me again. I didn't let him because Spencer still had a pulse, and he was out there, right now, waiting for 8AM to come so he could see all of us again. We were traitors. Brendon was so upset he couldn't breathe. We walked to school together, and he cut my palm because he was my best friend.  
But as soon as we walked into school we went straight to our wall, where a very angry Spencer was waiting.  
Patrick walking away, smug.

"I love you too Beckett. Go to Spencer's. Take him to Brendon's. Fix this." I nod into my phone, and even though Sisky cannot see me, he says to me "Good." He says "Bye, Bill."  
Click. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeep.  
I hang up on my end, and I begin to pick up speed. I drive to Spencer's, quick quick quick. I flash through images in my head, scenarios, happy endings.  
In my favourite version, Brendon and I…

…then black.

Epilogue.

Spencer isn't talking to me. Ryan and Jon are doing their best to avoid me. William won't reply to me. I am suffocating. Who'd have thought you could suffocate on such…nothingness.  
I gaze over at a lifeless William on the hospital bed.  
_He was speeding sir, he didn't even see the lights change. CCTV shows us that he was staring ahead into space, and we are honestly certain that this wasn't a suicide attempt. Just another distracted teenager.__  
_That's what the nurse said to Mister Beckett. Just another distracted teenager.  
Bill's Mum was too upset to show up, angry and sad and scared. Mister Beckett stayed all night, but he had work, so he left and let me stay here to watch over him.  
I told Spencer everything. I told him that I was in love with William. Spencer told me where I could shove it. The twins, well the twins just faded into the background. I regret to say that we have drifted apart.  
But when William wakes up, because he will wake up, I am going to tell him I love him and I am going to take him back to my house. I will love him unconditionally and die at his feet for him. I will carry him the whole way if I have to.  
Because that is my favourite happy ending.


End file.
